


Surface Speak, Surface Feel

by SpellsOfScarlet



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Skulduggery Pleasant Fic Exchange 2019, Teen for violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellsOfScarlet/pseuds/SpellsOfScarlet
Summary: “Have you spoken to our lovely daughter, recently?” Melissa called loudly, above the simmering of the pot. In response, came a definite shuffling of newspaper sheets, followed by the telltale clattering of Desmond, who stumbled into the kitchen.“Which daughter would that be?”“Your only child, dear.”“Ah. Yes.” He frowned, slightly. “I mean, no. My daughter appears to have been abducted by a sulky teenager.”If she hadn’t had cause to worry, Melissa would have chuckled at her husband’s evident cluelessness- but something really wasn’t right. It hadn’t been right for a while.(OR, how the non-mage people in Valkyries life react to the reflection over the years)
Relationships: Valkyrie Cain & Desmond Edgley & Melissa Edgley & Alice Edgley, Valkyrie Cain & Skulduggery Pleasant, Valkyrie Cain & Valkyrie Cain’s Reflection
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15
Collections: Skulduggery Pleasant Fic Exchange 2019





	Surface Speak, Surface Feel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mentosmorii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mentosmorii/gifts).



> Hey! This is my first work for this fandom, I really really hope u enjoy :)

The first time that Stephanie Edgley had been summoned to speak to the ‘ _emotional well-being counsellor’_ was an entirely uninteresting affair.

With a rapt knock of knuckles upon the door, an announcement had arrived (one that the reflection would become incredibly familiar with, in time). That slight folded slip of paper had directed Stephanie’s reflection to Miss Rowe, at present, and although it couldn’t gather many things- what with its lack of complex thought- it was beginning to believe that the ordeal was quite definitely pointless. 

Up until now, there had been a rather lengthy introduction, a very passionately reiterated reassurance of  _don’t worry Stephanie, you haven’t done anything wrong,_ and a few tedious questions about her life at home. Physically, the reflection was far from a creature of flesh and blood- but if there was one human thing that it was beginning to comprehend, it was  _boredom._

“If there’s anything you want to speak to me about- anything at  all , I’m here for you, dear,”finished Miss Rowe finally, in a key that was perhaps more suited for a dog’s ears. Her bangled hands were now clasped together as if in prayer; a shrine of over-saturated, blown up images of grinning children plastered the wall above her narrow shoulders. 

At this declaration, the reflection tore its eyes from one particularly terrifying photo that it had been fixated upon, for a good number of minutes. It elected to nod in response, and for all of her previous drawling about  _speaking to someone,  Stephanie_ _,_ this non-verbal gesture seemed to please Miss Rowe quite sufficiently. 

“There’s nothing you can’t tell me,” the woman clarified, as if she was trying to relay her point to a particularly simple-minded child. 

It stared, blankly, and wondered why Miss Rowe was lying. 

There were multiple coloured pens and pencils, it noticed, poking out from beneath the clutches of the counsellor’s messy bun; the faint promise of a moustache tickled the thin line of her smile. 

“Do you understand, sweetie?” The woman tried again, when the reflection didn’t answer immediately. It watched intently as the moustache quivered, when her lips dedicated great effort to dramatically enunciating every syllable.

In simple terms, Stephanie’s reflection understood two things quite clearly: the other woman was making promises that she couldn’t possibly keep, and she was entirely of the belief that Stephanie Edgley was a troubled child. For a moment, it wondered what breed of consequences would come to light if it were to tell poor Miss Rowe that she’d never even  _met_ Stephanie Edgley- but then it stopped in it’s thoughts, because thinking wasn’t befitting of a thoughtless being.

Miss Rowe stared back, expectantly, and the reflection nodded again, as the other woman had seemed to appreciate it the last time.

“Okay,” it said, after a moment of the counsellor staying resolute in her piercing stare. Finally, her mouth twisted back into its flashy smile.

“That’s great! Really great... I’m so glad I got to speak to you today, Stephanie.”

It was still notedly peculiar, that the woman felt so obliged to lie all of the time. Stranger still, that she was very badly trying to hide the notes she was writing as they spoke.

“Can I go back to lesson now?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” said Miss Rowe, “How do you feel about coming to speak to me more often?”

The reflection didn’t tend to feel at all, if it was being honest- which it always was. It didn’t really possess the ability to care, whether it passed Stephanie’s time in the chaos of a classroom or in this crowded little office, that smelled suspiciously of damp. It was quite accustomed to be spoken to in a hushed, somber tone of concern either way.

“Are you alright, Steph?” The others girls whispered sometimes, with narrowed eyes and careful frowns. At first, a classmate named Hannah Foley had taken it upon herself to check in with the reflection as often as they happened to cross paths. That question- just like Miss Rowe’s- was quite peculiar, but it soon learned to shrug off her nattering with a complacent smile. As time crawled by, it became less often, that it had to react to such an interrogation.

Until now, of course.

“Shall we do next week, then? Same time?” Miss Rowe pressed, closing her sparkly notebook and shuffling some papers that it knew were completely unrelated to both Stephanie, and her reflection.

“Okay,” it said, again.

•

“Have you spoken to our lovely daughter, recently?” Melissa called loudly, above the simmering of the pot. In response, came. a definite shuffling of newspaper sheets, followed by the telltale clattering of Desmond, who stumbled into the kitchen. His shirt collar was stuck up vertically, in stunning resemblance of Count Dracula.

“Which daughter would that be?”

“Your only child, dear.”

Carefully balancing the spoon over the pot, she turned around.

“Ah. Yes.” He frowned, slightly. “I mean, no.  _My_ daughter appears to have been abducted by a sulky teenager.”

If she hadn’t had cause to worry, Melissa would have chuckled at her husband’s evident cluelessness-  _but_ ... something really wasn’t right. It hadn’t been right for a while, and today she’d received a worrying call.

“Hey,” Des said, poking between her eyebrows. She swatted him with the spatula, and speckles of tomato sprayed across her lovely white tiles. “Don’t worry so much. It’s what teenagers are supposed to do, isn’t it? Be moody?”

“The school counsellor rang me today.”

“Counsellor?”

“The  _Emotional well-being_ counsellor, Desmond.”

For a rare moment, the sharp line between his eyebrows creased sincerely. Melissa turned quickly back to her pot, which had begun to hiss quite violently.

“She said that some other girls had spoken to her, about Steph being... unlike herself. Quiet. Distant.”

As much as it tore into Melissa to admit it, this part of their wrenching conversation hadn’t come as a terrible shock. After all, when was the last time that they’d seen Stephanie with a friend? When, last, had she even  mentioned another kid at school?

Before he could make to reply, she wondered aloud, “Do you think she’s upset about Gordon?”

Looking back, the worrying turn in her daughter’s behaviour aligned quite evidently with the passing of her beloved Uncle. Gordon’s death had been Stephanie’s first real encounter with bereavement (discounting, of course, the unfortunate incident with her pet rabbit), and it was heartbreaking to see that she wasn’t taking it well at all. Visibly, Des’ face softened a little, beneath the fluorescents.

“I think she really does miss him,” he said. “But Steph’s a fighter. She’ll get over this soon, you’ll see.”

Disjointed recollections of the past few months flickered through Melissa’s mind; something about them seemed starkly off-colour, and as such she couldn’t seem to take much solace in her husband’s words at all. Ever since she could talk, Steph had been an electric presence- perpetually screeching, and singing, and joking. Now, though, it was as if a flame had been extinguished, behind her big dark eyes. Now, her daughter’s voice was measurably flat, and abnormally quiet.

“Time heals all wounds,” Desmond announced wisely, derailing her train of thought with the air of one who  _hadn’t_ lost his bowl of cereal, that morning.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, moving to strain pasta over the sink. “But I think that we need to talk to her.”

“Aren’t we supposed to let her come to us?”

Melissa frowned, as steam billowed from the sink. “I think that one’s dogs.”

Coincidentally, at this, the noise of light footsteps echoed from the hallway; she looked at her husband pointedly, but his interest had become consumed by a tiny midge that was buzzing about nearby. Taking a breath, she filed away all of the careful words of the lady at school, and dumped the fresh pasta into one big, steaming bowl.

“Hey honey,” she heard Des call, and when she looked up, Steph was there.

For a second, she searched her daughter’s face for any indication of a nameable affliction- but she just looked like Stephanie, if a little worn down.

“Hi,” she said when their eyes met, with a smile that was neither warm or legibly cold. “Something smells edible.”

For all of the playful personality that the phrase encapsulated, the words entirely lacked Stephanie Edgley’s spark. The more details that Melissa picked up on, the more her motherly instincts told her that this was overwhelmingly wrong,  _all_ wrong- as per the new usual, Steph’s limbs were held all stiff, and her narrow stare was glassy and clouded, as if she was looking, but never really  _seeing_.

It had been wrong for  so much longer than Melissa had initially been willing to admit.

With an unwarranted flash of intense emotion, she felt her eyes prickle, stupidly; she felt her cheeks burn, and her lip quiver like a child close to tears- but then Desmond slung a comforting arm over her shoulder, and Melissa somehow managed to pull a strained smile over an interior that was beginning to crumble.

“That’s always good to hear,” she replied, and Steph didn’t seem to catch anything of the distress in her voice. She just smiled- that strange, unfamiliar smile.

If it was to be true that time healed all wounds, then as a mother, she would simply have to wait for time to pass. And looking at Stephanie now, Melissa knew that as a mother, it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

The Edgleys were fighters. They were going to get through this- whatever  _this_ was- together.

•

Apparently, Valkyrie had taken issue with the reflection’s performance. This was quite obvious- even to a being devoid of a _soul_ \- when she’d handed over her memories of the day, and Valkyrie had subsequently fallen quite garishly pale.

“Do you have any friends?”  Valkyrie had asked in a small voice, after a moment spent attempting to gather herself.

“Not really,” it had said.

“Do you  _try_ to make friends?”

“Not really,” it had said.

The thing that Valkyrie had seemed to fail to understand, as her brow furrowed deeply with agitation, is that the reflection was simply a transparent copy of all of her own thoughts, opinions and emotions. If Valkyrie herself was a friendlier person by nature- the reflection didn’t point out- then the reflection would probably be more inclined to make friends.

“You need to!” Valkyrie had exclaimed, in a rare flash of untethered emotion. A hasty “ _please_ ,” was added as an afterthought, as if a wash of guilt had quelled her sudden outburst. 

“ Okay.”

Her face twisted,  uncharacteristically .

There was something about the simplicity of the reflection’s answer that dug its claws beneath Valkyrie’s fragile skin. Cracks had long since began to spiral outwards from Valkyrie’s careful mask, and finally the reflection had caused something to snap.

“People are starting to think there’s something going on with me, but they _can’t_ think that. You  can’t make Mum and Dad worry about me- that’s the one thing that  _isn’t_ supposed to happen, with all of this!” Valkyrie cried.

Mindlessly, the shadows at her feet coiled like thrashing serpents, and the reflection eyed for the first time the dark, gleaming ring that lay upon her finger.

“Do you understand? Do you get it?”

Valkyrie loved her parents. This the reflection knew, because Stephanie Edgley loved them just as truly. Inherently, she also knew that Valkyrie would do anything to keep them from distress. She almost understood.

“You can’t make them worry!”

“Sorry.”

Suddenly, Valkyrie’s burning glare narrowed. In an instant, the leaping shadows settled against the corners of the room once more, and something deep within the reflection was almost compelled to narrow her own eyes in response.

“Why would you say that?” She asked, quietly. Her voice had drained of all of its misdirected anger.

“It seemed right.”

Why  _had_ she said that?

“I’m going out,” Valkyrie exclaimed, shortly. “Make some friends.”

The window unlatched, slammed, and she disappeared in a flash of shimmering air and tangled shadows, leaving the reflection all alone. A cool breeze played with her hair.

For a moment, all was still. And then the reflection carefully put away the homework that she’d been completing, and pulled out the phone that her parents had given her, scrolling through the contacts list, down to the letter H.

•

“ _Mum_ _!_ “

Neatly folding her page, Melissa tore her eyes from the shiny paragraph about Hydrangeas that she’d been engrossed within.

“Yeah?” She called.

It had been close to a month, now, since the guidance counsellor’s phone-call, and it was becoming increasingly harder to not push Stephanie into telling her her what was wrong. Even then, a pang of sharp guilt reminded her, both her and Desmond been incredibly busy with work.

Every time that her daughter walked down those stairs, she couldn’t help the pathetic flicker of hope the action alighted: the hope that something would have changed, with Stephanie. That something would have righted itself. Was it selfish, to wish that this would be the day that Stephanie finally decided to confide in her mother?

“Can Hannah come round for tea next week?” Stephanie called brightly, from the landing. “Says she’ll bring her paint so we can work on our English project!”

For all of her dignity, Melissa nearly choked on her mouthful of tea.

Impatient footsteps rang out in quick succession, and a vivid Dublin jersey materialised, hanging around the doorframe.

“Mum?” Steph asked again, rolling her eyes.

“Sure,” Melissa said, holding back elated tears. “Anytime, love.”

  
  
•

Laughter was a strange affliction. The concept was instantly justified, however, the first time that the reflection let out a genuine chuckle of her own, in response to something silly that Georgia had whispered. 

It was made very clear that Valkyrie had wanted Stephanie to have some friends- and so friends Stephanie had made. To begin with, the reflection was acting purely on Valkyrie’s requests- but somewhere along the line, she discovered that the tiresome activity had actually become enjoyable. 

_She_ had started to have fun, along the way. 

Instead of staring blankly at bits of scribbled paper for six hours, the reflection now had people that she rather enjoyed interacting with throughout the day: there was Hannah, of course, and Georgia- and Gary Price, who wasn’t half bad looking. Before, it had simply served time, when Valkyrie couldn’t. The more years that passed, the more clarity came over its existence, and it finally realised that it’s purpose was no longer to stand in for Valkyrie, who’s responsibilities laid far wider than those concerning the residents of Haggard. It’s purpose, from here on out, was to live as Stephanie Edgley. To really, properly  _live_. 

And then baby Alice was born in September, and,  _ well _ ...

Valkyrie Cain didn’t possess the time to be a big sister, but the reflection had time in abundance. The first instance that Stephanie had laid eyes upon her baby sibling, the world had swelled vibrantly with colours and sensations that she hadn’t ever known to exist. Biased as she most definitely was, she knew instantly that Alice was utterly perfect- and no harm would ever come of her, or her parents, whilst there was a semblance of life in Stephanie’s un-beating heart. 

With all of this fascinating comprehension, also returned the brilliant smiles of those around her. It hadn’t occurred to bother Stephanie before, of course, but now that she knew to look for it, she understood that there really was nothing quite like the joy of making her Dad grin, or making Hannah snicker loudly into her bag of crisps. 

These little, insignificant moments- these colourful, discordant scraps of times and places and people: _these_ were living. 

Murmuring softly to Alice, as her big blue eyes fluttered, and she cooed sweetly; shrieking with laughter, as Hannah drew an incredibly lifelike portrait of Mr Harper with horns; rolling her eyes with her Mum, when her Dad flung his cereal spoon across the living room by accident; holding Gary’s hand, and feeling the callouses...

This was the way that it was all supposed to fall. 

Valkyrie Cain fought monsters, and beings of unspeakable evil. Stephanie Edgley writ essays about the impact of the Korean War, and handed them in on Tuesdays.

It was perfection. 

•

It was harrowing. 

For seven days, her hands hadn’t stopped trembling. No matter how she scrubbed them- scalded them recklessly under a harsh spray of hot water- the stain of dark blood lingered stubbornly.

Sometimes, when she blinked, fragments of long-forgotten nightmares would cut into her vision.  _Blood_ , blackened and viscous, dripping from her hands, her arms- spraying from his throat, and the scalpel poised between blue fingernails; Tanith and Sanguine, grinning deliriously above blackened gums and veins. Most frequently, she’d be teetering precariously above the space between consciousness and precious sleep, when they’d visit...

Twisted things like that- they didn’t just disappear: it was as if the image was burned, permanently, into her eyes.

Kenspeckle was gone. _Tanith_ was gone. And Valkyrie was immovably tired.

After the events of the remnant outbreak, Skulduggery had given her two long weeks of official rest, and an unspoken allowance of as long as Valkyrie needed to recover. The relief that had first soothed her aching bones when she’d first stepped through her own door had been indescribable- all that she’d wanted in the world was to  see them, to talk to them- but then Tanith had showed up _._ _ Billy-Ray_, and Tanith, and-

It didn’t matter.

The Sigils had been re-carved, around Haggard. Tanith wouldn’t visit again: China’s student had made sure of it.

Smoothly as silk, the Bentley rolled up against the curb, purring its familiar rhythm. With a steadying breath, Valkyrie pushed open the passenger door, and stepped into the night.

At long last, she was home.

Skulduggery stayed close to her tail as she all but skipped up the path, hopping over cracks and loose stones that were as familiar to Valkyrie as the numerous scars that littered her own body. She paused momentarily only when she got to the door; she hesitated, and looked over to Skulduggery.

“Coming in?” She asked.

“Do you ever listen to me?”

Before she could answer, the animated skeleton in her front garden waved his gloved hands, and then pushed downwards. For a fraction of a second, the air about his fingertips seemed to glitter, with an unnatural effervescence - and then he shot upwards, landing on her windowsill with a cocky grace that she had never managed to perfect.

“I’ll only be a minute,” Skulduggery said, and he disappeared through the window in a flutter of coat-tails.

Distantly, Valkyrie hoped that she had tidied her room. It wasn’t a very founded hope, per say, but it was a hope all the same.

Right. Second time lucky, then?

The instant that Valkyrie twisted the door handle, and the warmth of her home washed over her in a wave, all of the horrible things that had happened recently seemed to melt away, like candle wax. With great relief, she kicked off her boots, and carried them with her down the hallway.

The smell of something tomatoey hung thickly in the air, and Valkyrie could easily have cried. 

“Hey!” She called out in good-gesture, award that her parents wouldn’t be back for another hour yet (the perfect amount of time, apparently, for Skulduggery to install some security measure within her room).

“Hey,” came an answer: her own voice, muffled softly.

Valkyrie steered herself into the living room, where she found both the reflection and Alice, nestled in her gently rocking arms. It only occurred to Valkyrie to worry about the soulless creature that was swaddling her sister for a fleeting moment, before Alice let out an adorably distracting snuffle. 

It was a noise that seemed to heal over every single ache, every single anguish that Valkyrie had faced. 

Bundled in that blanket was the promise of warmth and better things to come: her good friend was dead, the other snatched away invariably by worse forces still, and the one thing that Valkyrie needed was to cradle the warmth of her beautiful baby sister. 

“Let me hold her,” she whispered.

The reflection extended Alice to Valkyrie, who crossed the room swiftly and set down her boots on the floor, held out her arms, and  relished in the feeling of settling the child in her embrace-

Until Alice’s demeanour changed in a shade. 

Immediately, her tiny face screwed up. She began to cry, which was a very painful blow against Valkyrie’s ego, but she managed to shake it off.

“Hey,” she shushed, cooing over great yells that vibrated her skull, and rocking gently. “It’s okay, baby... it’s okay.”

No matter how she tried desperately to soothe her sister, though, it appeared that Alice was inconsolable. In fact, no longer was she crying because she was a typical baby, and that was apparently how they passed the time- she was now wriggling, and kicking in great distress. It was as if she’d been handed over to some stranger- or  _ Beryl._

In her confusion, Valkyrie handed the baby over to the arms that had reached out- and then silence fell suddenly over the room like a dissonant chord.

Alice gurgled contently, and the reflection smiled down at her comfortingly. Safe, from the grasp of the stranger. Was that a smirk, that the reflection was wearing?

Valkyrie felt a bit sick.

She stumbled, in her haste to get away. She turned away from the reflection, and the baby nuzzled so perfectly against her chest, and she clambered clumsily up a flight of stairs, her head pounding in time with her steps, and the thudding of her heart. 

She hurried into her room, ready to lock herself in, when she was greeted by a skeleton in an impeccably tailored suit. 

“I’ve got-“

Abruptly, Skulduggery cut himself off.

Against the cool air from the window, her cheeks prickled as fiercely as her eyes, which were now pooled with hot tears. She struggled desperately to blink them away, but he’d already seen. 

“Valkyrie,” he said, softly, but she stepped straight past him into the bathroom. 

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, and the door swung sharply to a close in her wake. 

In the safety of solitude, all of Valkyrie’s meticulously constructed walls came crashing to the ground. Tears streamed down to her chin before she could even attempt to stop them, and the deep ache in her bones had settled within her chest. 

Alice didn’t know her. 

Gasping through pathetic, panicked sobs, she pressed herself against the solid door-pane; slowly, she slid down to the floor, as the energy drained from her body as easily as the tears. 

She was the imposter, in Stephanie Edgley’s life. In the grand scope of things, it was stupid and insignificant, the way that Alice had turned all cold, but it had stricken something deep, within Valkyrie. The realisation had been akin to a knife slammed between her ribs.

Kenspeckle was dead ( _the blood from his throat, and the blood on her hands, and_ -) ; Tanith would be better having joined him, than the eternity she now faced ( _the scream was piercing, her throat bulged sickeningly_ ) and Darquesse was going to break the world before Valkyrie could ever make amends with the family that she didn’t belong with, anymore. 

Valkyrie cried. She sat on the cold, hard tiles, and bled all of the anguish that she’d kept locked away for so long in harsh, reeling breaths. 

She cried, and cried, until the tears wouldn’t come. 

“Valkyrie?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. 

“Do you want me to go?” 

“No.”

“Good.”

•

Never, had Melissa dared dream of a moment like this. As a young girl, she’d been adamant that she hadn’t wanted to be a mother, but standing here, that was a thought that she could no longer fathom. 

In a tangle of limbs and soft blankets lay her little family, frozen in a rare picture of perfect, undisturbed peace. The poor sofa sagged with the weight of her husband, who was curled impressively around both of his girls: his baby girl, snuggled into his side, and his actual baby snoozing atop his chest, with a fistful of his hair.

After everything they’d all been through, this was more than Melissa could’ve asked from life. Her eyes lingered on Stephanie, and the sweet smile that settled upon her face in sleep- so measurably different from her usual adolescent expression, the one with the eyebrow raised in perpetual disbelief.

Everything was right in the world once more. 

All that Melissa could think, standing in the doorway, her vision becoming blearier by the second, was that she was the luckiest woman of them all. 

•

For a while, there was little Valkyrie could do to evade the guilt that plagued her whenever she slipped in her black clothes, and buckled her boots. There wasn’t much at all that could distract her from the torment of feeling a stranger in her own home, and then nothing could chase the thoughts away when they came. 

In time though, the impossible threat of Darquesse arrived in a storm of severed skulls and a swell of black roaring flames, and suddenly Valkyrie was forced to stop worrying so dearly about her reflection. Wherever Valkyrie was not, was decidedly safer for her family. And so, for a long time, Valkyrie allowed herself to be carried from one cataclysmic event to another, hurling fireballs and shrieking with laughter or tears all the while.

Sometimes, when the action lapsed, and the screams fell quiet, she’d regain her time to dwell.

“If the reflection got a tattoo, would it appear on me too?” She asked.

Apart from a small pool of silvery moonlight that had spilled over the bonnet, the narrow street that wound around the Bentley was pitch black. The only noise, in fact, was that of Valkyries own disruption; besides her, she felt Skulduggery finally shift from his meditative stance. A beat of silence passed, and Valkyrie didn’t even have to turn to know that he was staring, blankly, with his head tilted slightly to the right.

“Because I kinda have a lot to deal with, without any stupid Stick and Pokes ruining my image,” Valkyrie clarified, flattening a bit of traitorous hair that had been stuck up vertically like a rabbit ear.

Illuminated softly, Skulduggery’s features were unreadable as ever, but somehow his expression complicated than usual. Was it amusement, that had caught his tongue? Disbelief? Admiration? Was it Valkyries eyes that were ruined, from staring at her phone screen in the dark for five hours?

“What time is it, Valkyrie?”

Her eyes fell back down to the phone display, which was considerably blurrier than the last time she’d checked.

“Quarter to four.”

The ‘stake-out’ had officially began at 9pm. Anytime now, their suspect-  _King_ , Solomon had named him- would shunt back into his dingy little apartment, and it’d be their job to bring him in, on sanctuary orders. Skulduggery had adamantly refused to call it a stake out, which it was, and life had been reduced to sitting in the dark ever since. Watching. Waiting. Staking out.

Another second of silence passed by, as he seemed to contemplate something. “I thought you wanted a tattoo?” He asked, eventually.

“Well yeah, but I want something  cool , not a wobbly smiley face.... Like a dragon!”

If he had eyebrows to raise, they’d have disappeared into the hairline that he didn’t possess, by now.

“Oh, a dragon?”

“Yeah! A cool one.”

“A cool dragon?”

“With fire and wings- and big claws, too- Beryl would  _hate_ it!”

There had to be a way to trick Finbar into doing it for her- the guy was like the walking, rambling embodiment of a particularly strange daydream, after all. On second thoughts, though, the memory of a little fluffy kitten inked onto an unconscious muscular guy’s shoulder popped into her head. Yeah, maybe she’d go somewhere else, then. Perhaps somewhere with a license to tattoo.

“Would  _you_ ever consider getting a Stick and Poke of a wobbly smiley face?”

Now, it was Valkyries turn to stare.

“Um, no... obviously?”

“Well then. Your reflection is a copy of  _you_. So it’d more likely be a Stick and Poke of a dragon, apparently.”

“Yeah...” Valkyrie hummed, frowning. “But Stephanie” - Skulduggery raised an imaginary eyebrow, at the distinction - “isn’t like me. She’s boring.”

“ _It’s_ exactly like you. It’s your reflection, Valkyrie.”

Innately- beneath the hazy filter of sleep deprivation, and something edging on delirium- she knew this wasn’t true. Over the last year, Stephanie had become something more than a mindless copy. Valkyrie wasn’t oblivious: she’d watched  _ Blade Runner_ , and every other work of science fiction that involved hordes of evil clones. As such, she already knew how this ended. And she didn’t want a Stick and Poke.

”What if,” she began, and Skulduggery’s moonlit expression was definitely amused, now. “What if  _it_ went to a party, and when all the other kids got tipsy, the needles came out.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think your reflection has  many friends.”

Valkyrie straightened the collar of her jacket, and wiggled her way to a seated position. She’d didn’t like to be reminded about that, but then realisation hit her like a solid wall around the head. 

“Does the reflection have..  _more_ friends than me?” She groaned, a frown now set fast upon her face. 

“Well, you are struggling for numbers.”

Valkyrie glared daggers. 

“Im about to have even less,” she threatened, but all of her energy drained, as her thoughts spiralled. “All of the normal people probably think I’m some weirdo who doesn’t speak to anyone.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“They don’t! Imagine being deprived of  _this_ personality!”

This, however, was something that Valkyrie could definitely deal with. 

From being flung headfirst into a world of vampires and powers unimaginable, Valkyrie and her reflection had been on a turbulent ride, persistently hovering above unimaginable disaster. Worrying about having to deal with a tattoo, then, after all that had happened? 

It was a dream. 

She had even less time to think about this, though, when a light flickered, and a sorcerer flung open the door of number 14. Immediately, his wide eyes locked directly upon her own. 

“Valkyrie, dear,” Skulduggery said, as the tall man’s dark eyes darted between them. “Run!”

Like a deer caught in headlights, the man startled; the slam of car doors echoed down the street, and Valkyrie took off in a sprint, Skulduggery at her side. Boots pounding against concrete, they chased him closely- Valkyrie snatched up the shadows and lashed a tendril around his ankle, snapped her arm and pulled it back.

He landed, face first, with an audible  _crack_ .

It’s what he deserved, Valkyrie thought, as she she caught her breath watching the man flounder trying to pick himself up, from beneath a wall of Skulduggery’s shimmering air. Her heart thudded uncomfortably against her ribs, and the cool darkness soaked into her skin. He all of this coming to him, for forcing her to do cardio. And maybe for his dastardly crimes against humanity, too.

“Eric King!” Skulduggery announced, “You are under arrest for the distribution of outer-dimension merchandise.”

“ _Elias_ ,” King attempted to snarl in correction, from his crumpled position on the floor. His dark hair was all dishevelled and there was a smear of dirt right beneath his nose, that looked a lot like a moustache. It rather ruined the effect, and- oh. Oh  _dear_. Was that a dragon, tattooed around his neck?

Even swamped in the dusk, she could make the picture out: dull green, wings sprawled around his neck, claws scraping above his jawline. 

“Sorry, Enzo. Terrible surname, by the way, but I  _like_ the spirit.”

Suddenly feeling rather gloomy, Valkyrie was about to voice her complaints about staying up all night for  _this_ , when a patch of air to the left of King began to ripple, as if being manipulated- and not by an elemental. She caught a glimpse of the peculiarity for only a second, before her brain managed to send a message of warning to her limbs. And then, as ever, it was too late...

There was a hole in the fabric of the universe, next to King’s face. 

From its depths, appeared two freakishly round, glowing eyeballs. These two eyes were followed shortly by forty or fifty more of the like, dotted sporadically about a mass of flesh and scales- as if some sadistic god had taken out the frustrations of its boredom by slicing up fifty lizards, and glueing them all together. 

_God_ ,  Valkyrie hated shunters. 

She hadn’t wanted to kill the thing, but sometimes, Skulduggery had reminded her in the end- as King made to bolt for it, and Valkyrie hurled fire into three separate snapping jaws, you just had to pull the legs off the problem. 

“I like your tattoo,” Skulduggery said cheerfully, as he dragged a shackled King back down the narrow lane. The sun was beginning to rise; there was a feeble orange warmth, washing over the distant horizon, and reflecting off the stray bit of monster insides that Valkyrie refused to tell him was splattered on his hat. 

“Really?” Asked King. 

“No.”

Valkyrie scowled. 

Back safely in the Bentley once more, the adrenaline drained gradually from her body, and the shadows nipped restlessly at her sleeves. As her eyelids grew heavy, Valkyrie found her thoughts wandering back to that lovely reflection of hers.

The thing was, finally, it seemed as if the matter was one of the rare few that Valkyrie didn’t have to worry about anymore. After all of the tears she’d worked through, and the churning dread that she was either putting her family in real, mortal danger, or permanently losing her place within her family- it almost seemed laughable, now. 

And,  _well_ , it was hard to contemplate the intricacies of life with bits of intestines in her hair. 

•

They’d reached a happy medium, Stephanie thought.

In the increasingly little that she saw of Valkyrie, the girl seemed quite sufficiently happy to let Stephanie continue to care for her family- and obviously Stephanie enjoyed these job requirements to no end. They seemed to have finally outgrown Valkyrie’s issues of detachment, and the whole thing was now running as smoothly as a double-life could.

The thing was, nothing lasted forever.

In a second, reality had shuddered and flickered- the fibres of material being had glitched, like faulty software- and there was no time comprehend anything at all, before Valkyrie’s grip had been wrenched away, in the middle of the cobbled street. With a hiss, she discovered that the air tasted different in this place, but it could well have been consequence of the blood in her mouth, and this was the only stupid thought she could process before her skull cracked, and she fell into an endless darkness...

Stephanie didn’t possess Valkyrie’s shadows to splice with, when rough arms clamped around her neck. She didn’t have any fire to summon, when she fell harshly against cold, damp concrete, and she most definitely didn’t have an omnipotent god-creature hiding within her form to call upon, as she knew Valkyrie did.

Unfortunately, it turned out that she didn’t have a mind that was susceptible to the rifling of sensitives, either. The tiny solace that she’d tasted upon discovering this was stamped upon almost immediately, when it turned out that Mevolent’s people didn’t take kindly to people who’s consciences they couldn’t just pull apart on arrival.

And then, all that there was- all that there ever had been, and all that would come- was  _pain._

Agony.

Splitting, burning, white-hot, blood-draining, unceasing agony.

That was the singularity in this unfamiliar type of torturous existence: pain, and blood, and flesh torn from flesh. A crack of severed bone. An animalistic shriek, ravaged from the depths of her being.

Something in Stephanie’s mind snapped, amidst it all.

The white light poured in.

And she saw what was true.

Enlightenment rolled over Stephanie like the eyes in her skull: she knew, at once, that she’d been blindsided, since the very first day that Skulduggery had released her from the mirrored prison...

This was never Valkyries life to lend and take away, whenever she pleased.

This was Stephanie’s life. Stephanie’s family.

There wasn’t room for Valkyrie Cain, in the equation.

•

“Where’s Alice?” Valkyrie asked, looking over her shoulder. She could’ve sworn she saw something of a grimace pass over the reflection out of the corner of her eye.

“Is something wrong?”

The reflection took a step closer, as if she was making to block Valkyrie from Alice’s room.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” She questioned, sweetly.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Eerily, the reflection remained completely unmoving, frozen in that identical, sickly expression. The sensation of something icy trickled down the back of Valkyrie’s neck.

“C’mon,” she said, rubbing her eyes as she turned, and her heart fluttered slightly, when she heard Stephanie move to follow her back to the bedroom.

They reached the mirror- it was much shorter than Stephanie now, with Valkyrie’s impressive stature, and her very own face stared blankly up at her. Innocently-  too innocently, almost. 

“I’m ready to resume my life,” she said, rubbing the paranoia from her eyes, and something of a small smirk fleeted across her reflection’s features. 

“Of course,” Stephanie said. 

_It_ said. 

-

Stephanie watched, as the concern flickered visibly over Valkyrie. She’d never been able to mask her emotions: they were quite often spelled out messily over her face, as legible as writing- and right now? She was definitely concerned. 

“Say goodnight to Alice, for me,” Stephanie said, sweetly. Soon, she wouldn’t have to rely on a messenger. Soon, there would be only one. 

And then she took a small step backwards, and the world drained away, in a whirlpool of shimmering images and Valkyries wide, dark eyes. 

-

Slowly, she blinked. 

Where the other figure had been standing seconds ago, hung an ordinary two-dimensional image of her inanimate reflection. That shiver-inducing smirk had vanished completely, and in its place was Valkyrie’s own jaw, slackened slightly in a comic expression of surprise. 

For a second, she stood unmoving, and dared the picture to flicker even a little, in the light. This time, though, the surface remained perfectly still. 

“ _Are you sure you want to do that?_ ”

In a jerky movement, Valkyrie snatched up a blanket and threw it over the mirror. To her indignation, the heroic action didn’t succeed in stifling the obnoxious spiralling of her thoughts. 

“ _My parents will be back soon_ ...”

“My  _parents_...”

Besides her, Valkyrie’s phone buzzed violently.

She jumped a little at the noise, and broke from the clutches of her stupor. Any message received today was highly unusual, as Skulduggery generally tended to respect her family days- which either meant that the apocalypse was imminent (an exciting prospect),  _or_ that she needed to be ready at some ridiculous hour, early tomorrow (as a worst case scenario). 

Turning sharply from the mirror, she scrabbled for her phone, and the display illuminated her face in soft shades of blue light. 

_1 New Message_ _,_ read the screen in bright digits. She pretended not to notice the tremble of her fingers, as she tapped at the screen to decipher the sender. 

_ Crystal Edgley _ . 

•

“It does seem that everything has worked out for you in the end, doesn’t it sweetheart?”

Miss Rowe was positively beaming over the table. Her grin was large, her words somewhat excitable, and she was eyeing the girl behind her desk like a freshly polished trophy, of which she was particularly proud. The startling pictures behind her were no longer, replaced by some sprawling quote about mindfulness. 

“Yeah,” said Stephanie. She smiled, and this time, she felt it. 

“I think it has.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou so much for the prompts, @mentosmorii!! They were all so frickin cool and I couldn’t choose what to write right up until the end (which is why I know you’ll be expecting a necromancy fic, I’m so sorry!) 
> 
> I really hope u enjoyed this, and that I didn’t stray too far from what you wanted. Have the best Christmas, if u celebrate! And happy new year! <3
> 
> P.s my tumblr is @spellsofscarlet :)
> 
> P.p.s I don’t actually know if I’m supposed to reveal my name oopsy I guess it’s there now
> 
> THANKYOU


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